It was early morning, before work, when I climbed into the Lyft. Winding our way through Cambridge, Somerville, and Watertown, he told me about being accepted into Berkeley music school, his upcoming audition, “going ham” on learning piano, his DJ gigs and 3,000 songs needed as a minimum, working on airplanes as “clean and secure” personnel, flying standby, aerospace engineering not being creative and instead too much rigidity, publishing, resume building, geography, and the best route to get to the doctor’s office.
I was nervous about my upcoming appointment so I was happy to let him ramble on, but my anxiety pinged as I heard his own blare through.
“Why would they accept me when there are so many other people who can play better?” he said.
“Because the music industry needs all types of musicians. There’s room for you all.” I said.
As we pulled up to the doctor’s office, he thanked me for my optimism and I thanked him for the ride.